


Frame

by intaglionyx



Category: Blaze Union, Yggdra Union
Genre: Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-25
Updated: 2013-04-25
Packaged: 2017-12-09 12:31:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/774220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intaglionyx/pseuds/intaglionyx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some mornings, you sleep in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frame

**Author's Note:**

  * For [feralphoenix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feralphoenix/gifts).



> I found this little drabble thing while digging through my emails for something else; I think it's pretty cute.

On some mornings, when the window hangs open and the autumn air is cool enough that you can't help but curl up with the covers pinned beneath your feet and sides, you let yourself stay in bed.

For the first few years you woke at dawn and set yourself to the day's tasks with a kind of focus and diligence that scared the hell out of your advisors and etched crows' feet beneath your eyes and a gauntness into your once-youthful face. Baldus pulled you aside one day and spoke to you of overwork and of the wisdom of delegating tasks to one's subordinates; Eudy told you with her usual frankness that you needed to relax. Flone tilted your face this way and that with her slim healer's fingers and told you to get some sleep with a sternness that was only half mocked.

It was Nessiah's look that decided you, those eyes that didn't compel persistence or acquiescence, but simply trusted you to do what was right for yourself.

So, on some mornings, you sleep in. Instead of kissing the spot just above the bridge of his nose that made his entire face quirk into a little smile involuntarily before sliding out of bed, you shift your limbs beneath the covers until one of your legs drapes over both of his and the other moves between them. He twists his neck and you grin when you see his eyelashes flutter; the scars and age lines around his eyes are like a painting's frame. You kiss the side of his neck and it arcs beautifully at the touch of your lips.

When you come to the throne room, your sister sees the telltales written in your hair and the smiles you both share, and calls you two dirty old men. You could say that Nessiah is far older than you, but you don't. You laugh until your sides hurt when he says it for you.


End file.
